


If Men Were Angels

by Pippin



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, CIA, Historical, M/M, berlin base
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 15:34:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10856898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pippin/pseuds/Pippin
Summary: Berlin.  1954.  The height of the Cold War.  Two agents, one a defector and the other his case officer.  Information, espionage, and an illegal romance.





	If Men Were Angels

Kent stepped off the plane, shielding his eyes against the bright German sun.  He had made it to Berlin.  He had worked his ass off for a chance to be stationed at the famed Berlin Operating Base under the legend that was Bill Harvey.  Kent was fluent in Russian, in German, in Quebecois (he refused to think about the Canadian SOE affiliate who had been a large part of his training as an 18-year-old OSS operative at Camp X in 1942), in Japanese, in Korean, in Italian, in Polish.  He had been a top operative in occupied Poland during World War II.  He had clawed his way back from accusations leveled against him by those under McCarthy, accusations based on no more than the fact that he spoke Russian.  With the Cold War raging, an operative of Kent’s caliber was invaluable.  And now he was stationed at the best CIA base in the constellation of intelligence centers around the world.

The transport to the Base was quick and efficient, and then Kent was waiting to meet with Harvey himself.  The secretary kept glancing at him and Kent wondered what she had heard about him.  He was self-aware enough to realize that his was a name known in upper intelligence circles—between his work in Poland and the McCarthy shitshow, people with the proper security clearances knew who he was by name at least.

The door to Harvey’s office opened and Kent was beckoned inside.  He took a deep breath to steel himself and went to face Bill Harvey.

The man looked nothing like Kent had expected.  Stout, bulging eyes, banana fingers—nothing like the legend he was.  But Kent had learned through the years that looks could be deceiving and never to judge the quality of an operative by how they appeared.

“Kent Parson,” Harvey said, gesturing to the chair across the desk.  Kent sat.  “Your file is impressive, particularly your time in Poland.”

“Thank you, sir,” Kent replied. 

“Do you carry?” was the next question, Harvey pulling a gun from his hip. 

Kent shook his head.  “I wasn’t allowed to in Washington.  But I do know how to shoot.”  Thanks to Camp X and Poland.

“Good.  Get yourself a sidearm.  Now, I see that you’re fluent in Russian,” Harvey said, not waiting for Kent to confirm before he continued.  “We had a recent defection, a KGB officer who wants to come to our side.  We can use him, of course.  He’s going to be our mole inside the KGB operations in Karlshorst—Orlov is good, but he’s only eyes and ears in the general area.  This is going to our man on the inside.  But we need a case officer for him.”

He looked up at Kent.  “Do you think you can do that, Mr. Parson?  You do have more experience in running agents than many of my other case officers, given Poland.”

Kent nodded.  “I can manage that.”

“I’m glad to hear that.  We’ll get you set up with an alias and everything you need before you go meet our defector.”

* * *

Getting used to the base was an experience.  Kent had been in all kinds of situations, had been forced to adapt quickly and seamlessly to an entirely new experience, had had things thrown at him in the spur of the moment for him to adjust to, but he had never done this.  It sounded ridiculous to say.  After all, he had been among the enemy in Poland.  He had worked in bureaucracy in Langley.  He had had to learn quickly and perfectly at Camp X.  But there was something about Berlin Base.  He thought it was maybe the reputation.  Bill Harvey was known as one of the best.  Berlin Base was the best CIA base.  Only the best got stationed there.  It was a different kind of pressure than he was used to.

There was a 24-hour cycle of on and off, and though Kent was never given “the duty,” as everyone called it, the cycle was exhausting.  He had done always on, he had done never on—there wasn’t much need for a spy’s instincts and paranoia when doing what amounted to office work—but this on-and-off was exhausting.  And yes, he was supposed to be running an agent as a case officer, but he wasn’t quite on that yet.  They were waiting for him to get over the jetlag first.

Finally, though, it was time.  He was going to meet his agent.

* * *

Kent tugged uncomfortably at the neckline of the shirt he had been given.  The fabric was scratchy and hot in the heat, but there had been a problem with getting his luggage, so he was making do.  He ran through his new identity as he waited for his informant.  His name was now Alexander Smith, an innocuous enough American name.  It wouldn’t do for his new agent to know his true name, in case he wasn’t actually a proper defector and would go on to turn over Kent.

A man sat at the table across from Kent.  “Alexander Smith?” he asked, the American name rolling heavily off his tongue with his accent.

“ _Yes_ ,” Kent replied in Russian, accent just barely American.  “ _And you’re Alexei Mashkov?_ ”

The man nodded.

Kent arched an eyebrow, a look he had perfected as he had laughed with—no.  A look he had perfected.  “ _What brings a KGB agent to the doorstep of the CIA?_ ”

Mashkov shrugged.  “ _I’ve seen too many people hurt.  I lived in constant fear under Stalin—there were purges of even his most trusted officials.  And I don’t believe in the system anymore.  I used to.  I fought in the war, even, as an officer.  But I’ve seen too much corruption.  And I know there’s that in America same as the USSR, but it’s not the same kind.  There isn’t the same kind of power struggle.  You would have to experience it to know.  But I don’t believe in the Soviet Union.  I believe in Russia, but not the USSR._ ”

Kent nodded.  “ _Fair enough.  Do you really mean to defect?  You know the risks._ ”

Mashkov met Kent’s gaze, a peculiar softness in his brown eyes.  “ _I mean it._ ”

“ _Then let’s begin_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Berlin Base was a real thing! It's pretty hard to find research on it, since it's still pretty classified, but you can read a term paper I wrote on it  here .


End file.
